Page 99 of One More Made Up Love Song
Dad chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. Either way, there were several pictures of these wooden arbors, the kind you might stand under when you’re exchanging vows, and it just got me thinking…”
I suck in a breath. “Daddy. Did you build one?”
He smiles, then he turns and opens the workshop doors and flips on the light. “The learning curve was pretty steep,” he says. “I’ve never carved anything this big before, and you probably shouldn’t look too closely because I’m not asprecise when I’m working on larger pieces of wood. But I don’t know. I think it turned out all right.”
His modesty is compelling but entirely unnecessary. The arbor is beautiful. There are four posts, two on each side, with a gently sloped arch overhead. The entire thing is covered in carved vines, in tiny leaves that wrap and swirl. I’ve seen arbors where the point is to cover them with flowers. They’re structural—a medium for decoration. But this is artwork all on its own.
“Dad,” I say, my voice soft. “It’s so beautiful.”
“You think?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That’s what your mother said you would say.”
“It’s whatanyonewould say.” I run a hand down the post closest to me. The wood is sanded and smooth. “Truly. It’s amazing.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Your motheralsosaid I shouldn’t show this to you now, since Freddie came home with you. She didn’t want it to seem like now that you’re dating someone, we’re trying to marry you off. But you’re here, and you don’t come home all that often, so I’m showing you anyway and just trusting you to know I would have shown you even if you hadn’t brought Freddie along.” He takes a deep breath. “And maybe you won’t even get married, and that would be okay too. But if you do, I just thought—I know it was Daphne’s idea to have one of these. But I thought it might be a nice way to have her with us.”
Understanding finally dawns. This might have been Daphne’s idea, her dream, but Dad built this for me.
Formywedding.
“You don’t have to use it,” Dad quickly says. “I thought I could build a bench to go under it, and it could sit out frontnear your mother’s rose bushes. If it isn’t what you had in mind, it doesn’t have to be your dream just because it was Daphne’s. I just thought…”
“Dad,” I say, stopping his nervous rambling. “I love it so much. I have no idea when I’ll get married, but I would love to use it.”
He smiles with obvious relief. “I know Freddie can afford anything. You might not want something so simple.”
“You’re that sure I’m going to marry Freddie?”
He shrugs. “Of course you will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, but his words don’t surprise me like they might have a week ago. Because now, I’ve seen the way Freddie looks at me too.
“Does it scare you a little?” Dad asks. “How famous he is?”
“I’ve gotten used to it,” I say. “It’s just a different kind of normal. We do stay off the internet, though. At least when it comes to stuff about the two of us.”
He nods, then pulls a couple of stools away from his work bench, offering one to me.
“I’m glad you found each other,” he says as he lowers himself to sit.
I smile. “Yeah. Me too. Took us long enough to figure things out. But sometimes it happens that way, I guess.”
Dad’s expression turns thoughtful. “For a long time,” he starts, “I worried that losing Daphne would keep you and Carina from really spreading your wings. That you might live scared.” He pauses and wipes a hand across his face. “It makes me happy to see you finally putting yourself out there. Taking risks.”
“You sound like Carina. She said the same thing.”
“Yeah. We had a conversation this afternoon about healthy risks…and not so healthy ones.”
“I’m trying to be better about not worrying so much,” I say. “Abouther,specifically. But I think it’s hard-wired into my DNA.”
“It’s not your job, honey. Let us worry about her. That’s something your mother and I have talked about too. We’ve probably relied on you too much. You can worry about her. That’s just being a sister. But it isn’t your job to protect her. She’s her own woman. And she’s going to be okay.”
I nod, appreciating the validation. “You know what’s funny?” I ask. “I’ve never thought of myself as risk-averse. But I’m recognizing now that my need to plan and be in control—that’s what I’ve been doing. Trying to keep myself safe.”
Dad smiles. “Sitting on feelings for years definitely feels like playing it safe.”
